When Molly got back, she looked for Susan Jessop’s telephone number. She hadn’t given much thought to her excuse for calling. In fact, now that she thought about it, no one had offered any suggestions last night at Daria’s. Because it had been her idea, she guessed they’d decided to leave it up to her.
Susan answered on the first ring. “Hi, Molly Doyle here. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
Molly could hear the surprise in Susan’s voice. “Oh, Molly, hello. No. I was just leaving, but how nice to hear from you.”
“I won’t keep you, but I wondered if you had time for coffee this morning? I ... well, I’ve been worried about you. The other night, and all?”
“That’s so nice of you, but it really isn’t necessary.”
“Please,” Molly said. “It would make me feel better.”
“Why, thank you, Molly. Look, I’ve got some wiggle room in my schedule. When do you want to meet, and where?”
“How’s the Village Corner at eight?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Molly hung up and then called Randall. “We’re on. Eight at the Village Corner.”
Susan Jessop found Molly in the patio of the small restaurant and sat down at precisely eight A.M. Molly looked at her watch, and laughed. “To the minute exactly. I wish I could be that organized. I’m usually late for things, especially opening the shop. The only way I can be on time is to be someplace early”
“My first husband,” Susan said, “was a stickler for promptness. I guess it’s ingrained in me now. But I like to be well organized, so it was easy for me.” Susan looked around at the early morning crowd. “This must be a favorite local hangout. I can’t say that I blame people. It’s really quaint and quite charming.”
“I agree. I usually stop at Tosca’s in the morning, but I thought you’d enjoy coming here. So, Susan, how are you holding up? This ordeal must be taking its toll. I think it’s just so awe-inspiring the way you’ve conducted yourself. I don’t know if I would be as charitable if I were in your place.”
Molly thought Susan almost preened. Her shoulders actually seemed to move like a peacock ready to unfurl his tail. “I have to admit it wasn’t easy at first. But when I realized how difficult it was for Carla, too, I just couldn’t hold a grudge.”
After they gave their order to the waitress, Molly said, “You know, you should think about getting away. I mean, there’s no reason for you to stay, is there?”
“I don’t think that new sheriff’s detective on the case would want me to leave. He called just before you did this morning and wants to see me later today. I don’t know how many times I’m going to be interviewed, but I must admit, I’m growing weary.”
“Well, I’d certainly ask him, if I were you,” Molly said. “They can’t keep you here forever, you know.” Molly was just about to mention Carla’s trip when the waitress appeared with their order. She decided not to rush into it yet. She knew Susan wasn’t a fool, and the last thing she needed was for her to realize this so-called get-together was a setup. They had each ordered croissants. When Molly had two bites left, she said, “If Carla can take off, why can’t you?”
Molly winced when she heard Susan’s knife clang against her dish. “Really? Where is she going?” Susan asked.
“South America. A vintner’s convention, or something. She didn’t tell you?”
Molly watched Susan slowly pick up her cup. She knew Susan needed time to come up with an answer. The peacock image had morphed into a cheetah ready to pounce. Susan’s shoulders turned stiff, rising a half inch. Molly could see the tension in her neck.
“Oh, now that I think of it,” Susan finally said, “she may have. With all that’s been going on, I probably missed it. When is she leaving?”
Molly pretended to think. “Hmm. I think it’s the end of the week, when school is out. Michelle told Emma, that’s how I know.”
“But South America? Just for a wine conference? I’d think she’d send her winemaker or marketing man. What on earth does she really know about wine?”
Molly shrugged. “Beats me. She’s taking Michelle with her, so maybe she plans to make it a time to reflect?” Molly saw Susan sit up straighter in her chair, getting in position to bolt. She didn’t dare try to see if Randall had managed to get a table by the windows.
Susan pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “Excuse me, Molly. I’ve got this on vibrate and a call is coming in.” Susan smiled at Molly as she listened to the caller. “Of course not, I’m just having coffee with a friend. I can come right over. No, she won’t mind. Wonderful, give me about fifteen minutes.” Susan closed her cell, and said, “My realtor. She’s found a condo in Pebble Beach she thinks I’ll like, but I’ve got to move on it quick if I want it.” She gave Molly a wide smile, “You don’t mind, do you? Maybe we can do this again?”
“Of course not. I know what this real estate climate is like here.” Molly waved her hands. “Go, go!”
When Susan reached in her bag for her wallet, Molly said, “Don’t be silly My treat. You get the next one.”
Susan rose quickly. “I’ll take you up on that.”
Molly watched Susan weave her way through the tables out of the patio, and saw Loomis exit at the same time. She wondered if the call was legit, or a ruse to leave. She knew Susan was fuming. Her eyes had gone dead when Molly mentioned South America. She purposely hadn’t said Peru. She was banking on Susan thinking it was Brazil or Argentina, or whatever country it was that didn’t extradite. Molly couldn’t remember and didn’t really care. All she did care about was that Susan fell for it.
Randall was at her table. He took Susan’s chair and signaled the waitress. “Looks like it worked. She got out of here fast. I saw her pull out her cell. Who called her, do you know?”
“I’m not sure if there was a call. She said she had it on vibrate. She said it was her realtor and had to leave to see a condo real quick.”
“Plausible, but probably a lie. We’ll know when Loomis calls. So, did she spill her coffee when you told her about Carla leaving?”
“No, but she was surprised. She tried to hide it, but I could tell.”
When the waitress appeared, Randall handed her a twenty. “My tab inside, and this one, too.” He looked at Molly and grinned. “Courtesy of the Carmel Police Department.” He pushed back from the table. “Gotta run. I’ll stop by the shop later. Good job, Molly Doyle.”
Molly watched him leave. After a moment, she left the small cafè with a grin on her face. That’s it, she thought, use me up and leave. Seems to be my role in life these days. What the hell, she thought, I’m a big girl. I can take the knocks. She stopped at the corner and looked around. She really couldn’t remember being this happy anywhere. And suddenly, she was happy. Her grin grew as she stepped off the curb. She was surrounded by people who cared for her. Emma had discovered her father was alive, and he not only wanted to know her, he was ready to give her the damn moon. If Emma decided to live with him, then Molly knew she would have to accept it. She’d known that from the start. It was Emma’s life after all.
Besides, she mused, I may have helped solve another case, and that was something to be happy about. Even more, she wasn’t in the middle of it this time. Well, close to the middle, but not the same as the other times. That alone was cause for celebration. That sudden relief vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and stopped Molly in her tracks. What if Susan were telling the truth, and she really was meeting a realtor? The impetus they had been hoping for might not happen. Suppose Susan took the news of Carla leaving for South America as a good idea. She might also think it’s time to hit the road. With both of them gone, out of reach of the long arm of the law, what then?
Molly hurried back to the shop. She hoped Randall had called to let her know if they had been right and Susan had high-tailed it to Bello Lago. There were no calls on the answering machine. She called Randall on his cell and got his voice mail. She sat at her desk and tried to figure out some way to get the ball rolling, just in case. And then she remembered the Montelupo dishes. She felt like slapping her forehead and shouting, Dolt! She’d forgotten to fax Carla an evaluation estimate. She hadn’t even looked them up in her books or checked her favorite Internet data site for auction results.
It took her an hour to get the information she needed. She pulled out the auction consignment agreement that Max’s attorney had made for her, and filled it out. She listed the dishes, and the current fair market value and entered all of Carla’s information. The agreement would give Molly the authority to consign the dishes at the auction of her choice, to insure and ship them, and to agree to the auction company’s low and high estimate. She signed her name with a flourish. All that was needed was Carla’s signature.
When she was ready to leave, she left the CLOSED sign in the front window. She had no idea how long she’d be gone. Stirring up some action between Susan and Carla was worth losing a sale or two. Bitsy had had a good weekend, and besides, Monday was always slow. She tried Randall again with no success. Damn him. He promised to call her. He should know how curious she would be.
Molly headed up Ocean Avenue toward Highway One on her way to Bello Lago. It was gridlock all the way, weekenders leaving for home. The right merge onto Highway One going south was a nightmare as usual. She never could understand why drivers didn’t follow the civilized rule of alternating as the one lane became two. The locals liked to blame it on the big-city tourists who brought their aggressive driving habits with them on vacation. But Molly knew that was baloney. She’d seen locals pull the same me-first routine more than once.
She was hoping to use the auction-consignment agreement as an excuse to find out whether Susan had contacted Carla. She knew Carla would be at the winery. Michelle had told Emma that her mother practically lived there, trying to cram every bit of winemaking knowledge into a mini-course. When she passed Carmel Middle School, Molly pulled over and called Randall again. She began to wonder if he ever checked his calls. And then she wondered if he was ignoring her. By the time she reached the entrance to Bello Lago, she had tried Randall once more. This time she left a message telling him where she was and what she hoped to accomplish.
Molly parked the van in the visitor’s parking area. She wasn’t surprised to see it empty. The tasting room wouldn’t reopen for another week. But she’d hoped to see at least one car there. Maybe Susan parked in the employee’s area by the office in the back. She was about to drive there when her cell phone rang. It was Randall.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who told you to—”
“Why didn’t you call me like you promised? Did Susan rush to Carla, or what? And don’t you dare yell at me!”
“I’m not yelling, for crissakes! Bad connection, okay? Yeah, she high-tailed it right for Carla. Now don’t get in the middle of this, understand? Stay out of it.”
Molly was staring out the window, and was about to tell Randall where to go, when she said, “There’s that man again. The one with that hat? Remember I told you about him? He just drove in. He’s in that old beat-up truck.”
“What color is the truck?” Randall asked.
“Rusted green.”
“Shit! Did he see you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Molly wasn’t sure if Randall heard her. It sounded as if he’d put the phone to his chest. She could faintly hear him yelling to someone. She thought she heard him swearing. In fact, she was positive he’d rattled off a few choice words. “Randall? What’s going on?”
“Get out of there, right now. That’s an order.”
“Why? What’s he got to do with anything? Don’t tell me you’re running after illegals now,” she laughed.
“Don’t argue with me. Leave!”
Molly started the van and began backing out, “Okay, okay. I’m going.” She snapped her cell shut and pulled away from the parking area. She could still see the truck as it drove past the small sample vineyard. She wondered if he was going to the old shack. Randall’s orders to leave had made her curious, and she wanted to know why her seeing this man again had disturbed him. As she passed the offices, she noticed Carla’s car wasn’t there. Maybe Susan had gone to her home instead. Molly would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at that little cat fight.
Molly saw the green truck pull up to the shack. She slowed at the edge of the vineyard. She was about to turn off the engine when her cell rang.
Randall’s tone was deadlier than Molly had ever heard. “I told you to leave, did I not? You’re about to make me lose my cool.” Each word was blistering enough to make Molly’s jaw drop.
“I just wanted to—”
“I don’t give a damn what you wanted. He’s—”
“He’s out of the truck,” Molly said, “and he’s got a rifle slung over his shoulder. He’s gone into the shack.” She began to laugh, “You should see the pants he’s wearing. They’re tucked into funny-looking boots with laces damn near up to his knees. He looks like one of those old-fashioned European hunters you’d see in foreign films.”
“I know what’s he’s wearing. Get out of there,
I mean
it,
Molly!”
“Where are you? Are you
here?
Randall? Answer me!”